


Seinfeld One-Shots

by sleepymarvel



Category: Seinfeld
Genre: Multi, Tumblr Prompts, one shots, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29725257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymarvel/pseuds/sleepymarvel
Summary: short seinfeld one shots based on sentence starter prompts people send me on tumblrReupload
Relationships: Elaine Benes/Jerry Seinfeld, George Costanza & Jerry Seinfeld, George Costanza/Jerry Seinfeld
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Popcorn and Menthols

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: George + Jerry “We have the same coping mechanism, kid.”
> 
> (reupload due to my account having been hacked and this fic being deleted.) 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Since when do you smoke?” George asks, standing outside of Monk’s diner with Jerry.

They’re waiting for Elaine to pick them up for a movie and George is all wrapped up in his winter jacket, leaning up against the wall beside his closest friend. He’s cold and he bounces back and fourth on his feet.

Jerry half shrugs, “I’ve always smoked.” And even though it’s nearing on freezing, he’s not bothering with a winter jacket. He’s just wearing an untucked flannel and smoking his menthol.

George scoffs, “Well, I’ve never seen you smoking. And you’ve never asked me to bum a cigarette. We’re friends, if you smoked you would’ve asked.”

Cars flash by and headlights dance over them in the dark. Jerry blows out smoke and considers the appropriate amount of butter he can put on his popcorn without being judged.

Jerry laughs, “Well, _you_ don’t smoke.”

And Jerry doesn’t usually smoke either, except Kramer gave him a pack of menthols for helping him move a new couch into his apartment. And that’s a whole other story entirely.

“That’s not the point!” George exclaims, “The point is friends ask friends to bum cigarettes. That’s how it works!”

Jerry sighs, defeated by the rule that friends ask friends for cigarettes, “Fine. Do you have a cigarette?”

“No.” George says, “Thank you for asking.”

And George isn’t sure how Jerry is still standing there, seemingly unaffected by the cold, smoking like it’s some late summer night. There’s even frost on windshields! Maybe it’s true that comedians aren’t human.

“Great. Now that we’ve completed the obligatory Vaudeville routine you can tell me if you’re bringing Lindsay to the party.” Jerry says, referring the girlfriend George had been talking about recently. 

And there’s holiday lights strung up on Monk’s diner, wreath’s flying by on the bumpers of cars, George in his big warm jacket, and Jerry standing up against the wall outside Monk’s diner in his untucked flannel and smoking his menthol.

George wants to ask for a smoke too, just because Jerry is doing it, but he remembers when he smoked that one time to piss off Susan and almost croaked. Never again.

“We broke up.” George says, “I’m probably going to bring Kramer as my plus one. Again.”

“What? You broke up? She was gorgeous! The best!” Jerry exclaimed, even though the extent he knew about George’s one-week-girlfriend Lindsay was that she was pretty and had a model body.

“She was crazy, Jerry.” George says and waves Jerry off, “She was always asking these personal questions, you know, trying to get me to dig up traumatic memories or something. She liked hearing it. It’s like she got off on my misery.”

“She really hit the gold mine with you then, huh?” Jerry says and ashes his cigarette.

“God you’re right. You should’ve seen her face when we talked about my parents. Totally unhinged.” George continues, “And to top it off she broke up with me! She lost it because I refused to cry about Susan.”

“Who cries?” Jerry asks, as if it’s the set up to a joke, but he means it.

“Right! She said I bottle things up.” George throws his hands up and a few people passing give them looks, “Of course I bottle things up. I’ve been bottling things up my whole life. If I could go back in time I’d tell myself: _We have the same coping mechanism, kid."_

“So no Lindsay?” Jerry asks and Elaine’s pulling up to the curb in George’s car. Finally. She’s waving them down aggressively, very aware that they’re going to miss the opening credits to the movie if they don’t leave soon (and then what’s the point of even seeing it).

“No Lindsay.” George agrees, “Unless I can spontaneously combust into tears next time I see her.”

“That’s a shame.” Jerry says with an apathetic shrug. They’re getting into George’s car now and Elaine is telling them about the crazy thing that just happened to her that made her late.

George wishes he could bring Susan to the party, just to have someone to bring. That was something convenient about having a fiancée. You always had a plus one. At least he has Jerry to go with. ~~And Kramer and Elaine too.~~


	2. Pumpkins and Fancy Plates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I'm so sorry but George + Jerry “You were so embarrassed that you faked your death?!”

“We can’t go to the party!” George exclaims, entering Jerry’s apartment in a hasty panic. Jerry’s in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of orange juice, generally unbothered by George’s dramatic entrance.

As he flips the cap to the orange juice in his hand, the comedian wonders if it’s normal to be drinking orange juice so late at night. He shrugs. Oh well, at least he’s getting his vitamin C and what not.

George stands opposite Jerry at the kitchen counter, looking mighty disheveled in his one size too big brown coat. Briefly, he’s mesmerized by the half-carved pumpkin on the counter beside Jerry, the only sign in the apartment that it’s Halloween night. A knife is still sticking out of the eye hole and pumpkin guts are still visible inside. 

“Why not?” Jerry asks, downing his glass of orange juice. “Elaine will kill me if we don’t show up. She’s already left with Kramer. We can’t let her go to a party alone with _Kramer_. She’ll go crazy!”

“Well too bad! The gigs up. I broke the plates. George is dead!”

Jerry stops halfway through pouring himself a second glass of orange juice and gives George a funny look. It’s almost like he’s confused but in an amused sort of way, “Plates? There’s plates?”

“There’s plates alright! Lindsay’s plates. The expensive ones she keeps in the glass display case. They shattered, collapsed like the Hindenburg. I couldn’t go back there, Jerry. They were priceless.”

“You know what I don’t get.” Jerry says, distracted suddenly, “Why do people keep plates on display anyway? Just use them! That’s the sole purpose of having a plate. Keeping them locked up and on display, depriving them of their only purpose as an object, it’s sociopathic.”

“She was a sadist Jerry.” George says seriously, “Of course she keeps plates in a display case. It’s just the type of disturbed thing she’d do.”

“So what, we can’t go to the party because you broke some plates?” And Jerry says it like it’s the biggest overreaction of the century. He’s grinning too, “It was an accident. Eventually you’ll mess up worse and she’ll forget about it.”

“It’s too late.” George insists, voice raising in dramatic pitch as he goes on, “I already took drastic measures. I killed George! I called Lindsay and told her I was the coroner. I said that George was found dead under mysterious circumstances. Probably a mob hit. They’re going to do an autopsy to find out.”

Jerry blinks. He sets his orange juice on the table beside the half-carved pumpkin, gaping, “So, let me get this straight,” Jerry says, “ _**You were so embarrassed that you faked your own death?**_ ”

“Yeah.” George admits, begrudgingly, “Basically.”

Maybe there was an easier way to get out of the broken plates scenario that didn’t involve planning a fake funeral and eventually trying to convince Jerry to do the eulogy. But probably not. George is pacing now, panic setting in even more.

“We have to go.” Jerry says, “Elaine getting angry trumps your insane girlfriend finding out you’re not in a casket somewhere.”

“You don’t understand! I’m dead Jerry. Deceased! Lindsay will freak if she sees me. She’ll say, ' _Oh look, there’s George, the walking corpse!_ ’ We can’t go. It’s impossible.” And worse, she might even make him pay for the plates! George would much rather stay at Jerry’s apartment and watch a movie, or go out and get dinner, then have to deal with the fall out of the broken plates debacle. Elaine could survive with just Kramer for company. She’d have to. And if she wanted to be upset about it then oh well. 

“Well I’m going to the party.” Jerry says, putting the jug of orange juice back in the fridge and heading for his jacket, “I’m not dead. The mob doesn’t take jobs out on comedians.”

George hurries and blocks his path to the door, “Hey, you can’t go either! You’re in mourning.”

Jerry smiles, edging on laughter the way he always does when he thinks he’s being clever, “I’m not mourning over you, George.”

George continues to block his path, “If you don’t mourn over me nobody will believe I’m dead. What kind of friend doesn’t mourn?”

“It’ll be more believable if I don’t mourn.” Jerry shrugs, “Who mourns anyway?”

“You do! The mob killed me. I died alone on the streets of New York. It’s tragic. If you saw Lindsay you’d have to cry, you'd have to really make her think I'm gone. And we both know you're a terrible actor.”

“Fine. I won’t go.” Jerry relents, groaning. He tosses his jacket over onto the couch, “But you’re going to explain it to Elaine!”

“Yeah whatever.” George glances back over to the half-carved pumpkin on the counter, “Hey, what’s with that pumpkin anyway? It looks demonic.”


	3. Comedians and Pet Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jerry + Elaine “Look at us, just two innocent people doing innocent things.”

Elaine liked the comedy club. She honestly did. She’d go to watch Jerry’s act, which occasionally could be rather funny, because she’d much rather be out spending her night getting free entertainment from her friend than sitting at home and doing nothing. Really, who needs more nothing anyway?

Elaine was leaning up against the bar post show, drinking some fruit flavored cocktail, and trying to forget how absolutely bored she currently was. Jerry was way more cocky than usual that night, very up on himself like he was some big hot shot funny guy in a fancy red suit, and Elaine was left by herself to fend off random comedians approaching her and trying to make her laugh with some lame joke. If she had to put up with Jerry’s lame jokes all day, she was not trying to deal with it from anyone else. One comedian friend was enough, she thought.

Jerry was standing further down the stretch of the bar counter, flirting with some pretty fan with a M name like Mandy or Monica, acting as if he hadn’t already agreed to share a taxi home with Elaine. She rolled her eyes and spun her straw around in her glass.

She was shamelessly eavesdropping at this point. Jerry made some lame joke about bar etiquette and the fan laughed. But, Elaine was about seventy percent sure it was a pity laugh at best.

_God, she was just so bored._

Elaine would’ve even settled for George right about then. He could ramble on and on about whatever minor inconveniences that Susan was causing him that week and she'd just suck it up and listen. Or even better, one of the performers could trip and fall off the stage. That would be hilarious and definitely would’ve made her entire night. Elaine grinned just thinking about it. But the next show wasn’t starting for another half hour so that sadly wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

A couple minutes passed and at this point she was not only bored out of her mind, but a bit tipsy as well. She watched uninterested as performers and fans filtered in and out of the club. 

That’s when she noticed a familiar face over by one of the tables on the opposite side of the room. It was one of her co-workers, a tall way too handsome curly haired blonde who Elaine couldn’t stand. One time he offhandedly mentioned that he had a pet fish and of course Elaine wanted to see it. Elaine loved fish. She loved their cute little glassy eyes and their colorful scaly skin. And this dude took terrible care of his goldfish! It was awful. They deserved an aquarium or big tank or at least a proper Easter Island Head to swim in. But his fish had none of that! It was an outrage. Elaine certainly thought so.

She took another sip of her cocktail and made up her mind. She was going to steal his keys and then use them to break into his office. Then she'd steal his fish to give them a better home. And she needed Jerry’s help. Maybe that was the alcohol speaking but maybe not. Either way, she going to do it. 

Elaine, determined, made her way down the bar to get Jerry’s attention. 

“Jerry.” Elaine said, putting herself right beside him and the fan. Jerry tried his best to ignore her, still flirting with Mandy or Monica or whatever her name was, “Jerry. Jerry. _Jerry_.”

The fan gave Elaine a look, like she was a crazy person or something, and then narrowed her eyes at Jerry, “I think she wants your attention.”

Jerry waved her off, smiling his big funny guy smile, “She’s just a stalker. Crazy escaped mental patient. Just ignore her.”

Elaine groaned, briefly looking back to make sure her blonde unfairly handsome co-worker was still there, “Can I please borrow my _husband_ for a moment.”

The pretty fan with the M name scoffed and gave Jerry a dirty look, “Go for it. I'm leaving."

“Wait! It’s not what you think—” Jerry tried, eventually sighing in defeat as Mandy or Monica or whoever takes off. “What was that for! She was into me!”

His voice was all high-pitched and upset but Elaine could tell he wasn’t upset at all. It must’ve been something about the way he always smirked through everything he said, even when he had every right to be annoyed, like he was just waiting to break out into laughter. Elaine was pretty sure she could shoot him point blank and he’d be on the brink of laughter through his dying breaths.

“Relax.” Elaine said smoothly, “She wasn’t into you.”

“She was sending signals!” Jerry exclaimed and Elaine scoffed. Jerry looked pretty funny in his suit. Elaine was sure that it must’ve been some comedian trick to make the fans laugh. You know, the fact that he already looked goofy before he even started telling the jokes. Jerry continued, “She was definitely into me.”

They were standing across from each other now, illuminated by the bright bar lights and surrounded by the laughter and loud chatter from the room post show. Elaine was also pretty flushed from the booze in her fruit flavored cocktail and she noticed that Jerry was still high from the crowd's laughter. It really did something for his confidence didn't it? 

“Oh please, there were no signals. I would’ve sensed signals.” Elaine said, looking up at him and brushing it off. She pushed her cocktail across the counter towards him, “Do you want this? I’m cutting myself off.”

Elaine knew signals. She was constantly sending signals. If Mandy or Monica or whoever was sending signals, then she’d know. Oh, she’d know. And she’d support Jerry, of course she would!

“She wasn’t sending them to _you_. You wouldn’t have heard them.” Jerry pushed her drink back towards her, “And I don’t want this.”

“Jerry I’m a woman.” Elaine said seriously, like explaining something to somebody stupid, “If she was sending signals, I would’ve picked up on them. Before you even.” She pushed her drink back towards him, “I don’t want it either.”

Jerry sighed in defeat, “Well, you have my attention.” He gave in and was drinking her fruit flavored cocktail now. It actually wasn’t half bad? Jerry considers that the fruit flavored alcoholic beverages are objectively better, but men are to afraid to admit it for fear of being judged. Considering that, he was craving a Shirley Temple.

“Good.” Elaine said, smiling all big back at him. And honestly, the smile was a little suspicious too. She nodded her head towards the opposite side of the room, “I need you to go distract that guy over there.”

Jerry very conspicuously looked across the room. Elaine’s co-worker was talking to one of the other comedians. Jerry made a face, “Distract him? Who do you think I am?”

“Come on Jerry, please.” Elaine practically begged. She needed to save those poor little fish! She was determined! “Just do your comedy bit on him. Ask him about the airplane food.”

“Hey, that’s a stereotype.” Airplane food? Please. But then again, what was the deal with airplane food? “I’m not a preforming monkey Elaine. I can’t just go into material on cue.”

On stage they were getting ready for the next comedian to start his bit. The staff was adjusting the microphone to accommodate someone not as unnaturally tall and lanky as Jerry. In the back of Elaine’s mind she was subconsciously begging for somebody to trip and fall. 

“Please.” Elaine tried, not breaking eye contact with him. 

“No.”

“ _For me_?” 

“That shtick doesn’t work on me anymore.” Jerry declared, “Maybe when we were dating. But I’m not falling for it! I have willpower.”

Elaine scoffed, because _yeah right!_ , and gave him the best pouty begging look she could manage, “ _Jer--ry.”_

_Willpower. Willpower!_

“Fine.” Jerry conceded begrudgingly, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”   
  
Elaine grinned again, crossing her arms accomplished. “Thank you!”

Jerry made his way over to Elaine’s coworker, the unnaturally attractive bad fish owner, trying to think of a way to distract that guy. He waved her off, “Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”

Later as they were standing outside the comedy club, close to midnight, Jerry gave Elaine a suspicious look. They were standing by a stop sign, on the edge of the sidewalk waiting for a taxi, and Elaine had her hands shoved in her jacket pockets all suspiciously. She was looking at him with a big grin on her face, very pleased with herself, just waiting for him to ask what she did so she could fill him in on the undoubtedly wild shenanigans. Nobody just asks you to distract somebody if something isn't going down, Jerry thought. You only distract people in schemes and movies. 

“Okay what was that?” Jerry asked, very curious. They were standing very close together, practically inches apart beneath the stop sign, as the sidewalk was busy with fans leaving the comedy club and New Yorker's having late night adventures. 

“What was what?” Elaine asked innocently, still smiling all big and proud of herself, knowing exactly what he meant by that.

“ _Elaine._ ” 

“Fine. I stole his keys." Elaine pulled the keychain out of her pocket and held them out, "See.”

“Any particular reason? Or have you just decided to start up a life of crime?” 

“Hey, you distracted him, Jerry. That makes you,” She points up at him, “An accomplice.” 

“You’re right.” He agrees, _“ **Look at us, just two innocent people doing innocent things.** ”_

Elaine smiled even bigger at that, if that was even possible. Cars flashed by them, casting shadows, and they were looking at each other now, in the familiar way that neither of them could ever figure out. There definitely was something there, a feeling maybe? It probably didn't matter. 

“Okay, come on.” Elaine said, breaking them out of whatever moment they may or may not have been having, spotting a taxi somewhere in the late night traffic. She waved down the taxi driver, stepping slightly off the curb. “We have to break into his office and steal his goldfish.” 

This definitely was going to end in chaos. 


	4. Top Hats and Barber Shops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: George + Jerry, “Yeah, keep making jokes. That’ll win the war.”

It’s a little past seven, according to Jerry’s Superman watch, and he’s standing outside his building all dressed up for dinner with George. At least, he’s as dressed up as a person gets for a dinner that’s not a date. There’s really no dress code for non-date dinners. Jerry has of course thought about this extensively.

Currently, the comedian is looking very nineties. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a neatly tucked in blue shirt. The addition of the superhero themed watch a very goofy addition to the overall ensamble. Jerry is lost in some important thought that’s actually not that important, waiting for George so they can share a taxi, and when he checks his watch again only a minute has passed. 

People bustle by him on the sidewalk, hurrying off to wherever people hurry off to in New York, and Jerry watches them with idle curiosity. It’s usually more fun to people watch with Elaine, because she always has something funny to say about people who are dressed mismatched or people who are acting strange. And laughing at those people is sort of their favorite pass time. George is good to people watch with too, but for different reasons, — Jerry checks his watch again. George is five minutes late. Interesting.

Jerry is pulled from that thought at the sight of some random guy in a top hat (very bizarre - he knows Elaine would have something to say about it) and so when George appears beside him in a flurry of barely contained annoyance and scandal Jerry doesn’t notice at first. And then —

“You will not believe what just happened to me!” George exclaims, out of breath, and it’s obvious he hasn’t thought about anything else for hours, “The audacity of some people. I’m livid, Jerry! Absolutely livid!”

Jerry glances at his friend, who’s visibly frazzled and unkempt, and when he looks back to find the man with the top hat he’s already gone. Too bad, Jerry is sure George would’ve been interested in seeing him as well. Oh well.

“I should’ve never went there with him.” George continues, “I had a feeling it was a bad idea. I should’ve listened to my gut.”

George had been with Kramer all day, trying to pay the big guy back for a favor he did for him the week before. Except Kramer didn’t want money, he just wanted to hang out with George. Which of course, was the opposite of what George would do in his ideal day. George was just back from the barbershop, where he was begrudgingly waiting for Kramer to get a haircut. And gosh, he looks terribly annoyed, standing opposite Jerry on the sidewalk a little past seven, so something truly terrible must have happened.

Jerry considers that if life were like a cartoon, George would have steam coming out of his ears like some angry animated train conductor. He can even picture George in the conductor’s hat. Jerry smiles at the thought.

“Hello to you too.” Jerry says, a tad sarcastically, still amused by the thought of George as an angry train conductor. “You know you never get a proper hello these days. Even from friends. This world is falling apart.”

George gives Jerry an offended look, “Hey, we have bigger problems right now than your proper hello.”

“There’s never a bigger problem than a proper hello.” Jerry says very seriously, still smiling in that goofy teasing way. Jerry always seems to be teasing, just a little, and maybe that’s part of his weird wacky charm. 

“My issue trumps your proper hello.” George insists, just as serious.

Jerry narrows his eyes with faux suspicion, “We’ll see.”

George begins to pace, visibly upset and unsure of how to properly handle it, “You won’t believe this. They kicked me out of the barbershop!” He exclaims, “I was just sitting there minding my own business, reading some magazine, and they made me leave. They said I was _demoralizing the barbers._ ”

Jerry gapes, already very amused at the story. He can’t help but look way to happy about the whole situation, because this is the kind of over the top stuff he lives for.

“You know why they said that?” George continues, “Because I’m bald!”

“ _No_.” Jerry practically gasps, scandalized, in the air of somebody deep in gossip.

“Yes!” George exclaims, “You tell a bald man he’s demoralizing the barbers because he’s bald? That’s practically a hate crime.”

“I’m not sure that qualifies.” Jerry says, “But still, it’s pretty wacky.”

“It qualifies.” George insists, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course it qualifies.”

“I’m not sure it does.” Jerry does a half shrug, “What did Kramer say?”

George has stopped pacing now. He’s looking at Jerry like they’re the only two people on the entire sidewalk.

“I don’t know. Who cares.” George waves off the question, “What does Kramer know anyway. More importantly, what are we going to do about this?”

Jerry gives him a funny look, “ _We_ aren’t going to do anything.”

“We have to Jerry!” George insists, “We can’t let them win. This is how it starts. First they kick a bald guy out of the barbershop because he’s bald. Next thing you know, there’s big signs on the door that says no bald people allowed.”

“Of course.” Jerry replies, still teasing, “Because that’s the logical series of events.” He pauses, checks his watch again to make sure they won’t miss their reservation, “So what? You wanna do Pretty Women?”

“Pretty Women?” George is caught off guard, because _what does that mean anyway?_ , “What do you mean Pretty Women?”

“You know Julia Roberts.” Jerry does his best imitation of the movie with as much showmanship as possible, “You work on commission? Big mistake!”

“Yeah, very funny.” George groans, “ **Keep making jokes. That’ll win the war.** ”

“There’s a war?”

“You tell a guy he’s demoralizing the barbershop because he’s bald. Of course there’s a war Jerry!” And George certainly looks worked up enough to fight a war, even if that’s not something he’d ever want to do.

“So what?” Jerry says, suddenly pretty apathetic about George’s war against the barbershop and even more ready to clown on him for it, “What do you want me to say George? Let’s storm the barbershop like it’s the beaches of Normandy? Your call General Eisenhower, Sir.”

They stare at each other for a moment, George looking very heated at the whole situation and Jerry with a joke still on the tip of his tongue, and eventually George sighs in defeat.

“Fine. Whatever. You can let them win then. I could care less. But when people start treating me different for being bald you’re going to feel pretty shitty about yourself.” George accuses.

“Impossible.” Jerry actually does laugh now, “But that works for me anyway.”

George grumbles about it a little more, enough so that he’s satisfied, and Jerry goes to hail a taxi. It’s always been a difficult feat for him to get a taxi, which is why usually he has Elaine there to do it for him, but Jerry is with George and there’s no way George is going to successfully get them a taxi so he has to go for it himself. Before he steps onto the curb to try and fail to get them a ride to the restaurant, George puts his hand on Jerry’s arm to stop him. 

“Wait. By the way, is it barbers or baristas?” George asks, curious, in that conversational way.

Jerry gives him a look, “It’s barbers.”

“But the women barbers.” George asks, still not convinced, “Baristas right?”

“Absolutely not.” Jerry says, stepping onto the curb and yelling for a taxi. No taxis stop for him. He just stands there waving erratically in that over the top way of his. 

“Huh.” George watches as Jerry acts all goofy while trying to get them a taxi, “Weird. I always thought it was baristas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Final reupload of the chapters that were deleted when my account was hacked. Welcome to all new readers and welcome back to anyone returning. I really appreciate you! <3 
> 
> send prompt requests on tumblr @lovelyamneris

**Author's Note:**

> send requests on tumblr @lovelyamneris


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